


Monsters

by justanothermess



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It Gets Worse, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 17:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermess/pseuds/justanothermess
Summary: If you were told to draw a monster what, or who, would you draw?-Keith made a mistake and learned, early on, that the world is unfair.-Graphic descriptions of child abuse and angst. Viewer's discretion is advised. This is not going to end happily.





	Monsters

Keith was only seven years old when things changed. It started off as a normal day. Or rather, as normal as it got for Keith. You see, he was different from the others. He was never the same as his classmates. They always told stories about what they did at home, about the new toy or new clothes their parents gave them, about the bedtime story they were told the night before and Keith didn’t understand why it was so different, so  _ cold  _ for him.

His mum had left him before he was old enough to know her. That fact he’d found out when he was four. His father had always been that blunt. He never hidden anything from his son. And that should be a good thing, right? They trusted each other with their lives.

Keith always heard about the new scandals at his dad’s work even before the employees themselves knew. Keith knew exactly what his dad thought of all the people they met, the bad and the good. There were no secrets between them, not even one. So why did it always feel so cold for him at home? He didn’t know why. It was confusing. It didn’t make sense. But his dad always told him to keep what happened at home a secret and why should he question him?

\---

When he was five, he finally understood the reason why everything was so different. He understood why it was so dark. He had been late coming home after getting lost in his thoughts at the library and had to rush back home.

He understood when he came home from school to his dad laying next to a pile of empty bottles. ‘ _ Alcohol bottles. _ ’ his mind supplied.

He had tried them before when his dad had received a promotion and prompted him to try some. The taste was bitter and burned his throat and he had ended up choking on the first sip. Still he had drank on because his dad had been so eager and happy. He had had a headache the next morning and vowed to never drink again.

“It’s your fault! You absolutely useless  _ freak! _ I do so much for you! I give you a home and clothes on your back and you do  _ absolutely nothing! _ ” The voice was loud. So, so loud, ringing in his ears incessantly.

Keith had never been that great at identifying his feelings but he knew exactly what he felt in that moment. As his father lifted his hand at Keith, he knew what this feeling was: fear. That night was a nightmare, a constant recurring nightmare that never ended. No matter how long ago it was, he never forgot that first night. It felt like it lasted forever. He was aching everywhere, body covered in black, blue and red everywhere except his face. Why was his dad- his father doing this?

“Don’t you love me, dad?” Keith whispered trembling all over and voice hoarse from his pleas.

“You? No.”

\---

Things only got worse from there. It seemed his father was never in a good mood anymore. Bruises and cuts became everyday norms. Alcohol became a necessity in the house and Keith found out much more about the different types and varieties than he should have at his age.

He learnt quickly which fabrics were best to keep away from and how long the sleeves or the pants should be to hide everything. He found the best antiseptic and pain relievers, taking them sparingly so he wouldn’t have to steal money from his father for more; that was a whole mess on its own and he hated doing it. At least the fates had been kind enough to keep him from getting caught so far.

\---

The lesson had been so boring, Keith couldn’t be blamed for wanting to ignore it. So he began drawing. It started off as circles and squares, nothing special, but he became more invested and, when he finished almost two hours later, he had drawn a very detailed room - his room.

He almost cried in relief when he realised the ringing stopped in his head even if it was only for a few hours.

\---

He stopped listening. He zoned out during lessons, during the hour long screaming sessions with his father, while his classmates pointed fingers at him, laughing. He always carried his sketchbook and a pencil with him and, when he couldn’t, he used what he had. Drawings and doodles were carved into desks or drawn in chalk on sidewalks, anywhere, any way, as long as he could. Stop. That.  _ Sound. _

There were drawings of people walking on the streets, of winter nights, of summer sunsets. There were drawings drawn in harsh, frantic strokes of dark rooms, of semi-healed cuts, of tears and alcohol bottles and each drawing was filled with so much emotion, so much hurt. No one saw those drawings. He kept them hidden under the floorboads by his bed.

\---

“MISS! Keith did it all WRONG!” one of the boys in his class screamed, pointing a finger at the seven year old staring at his paper in confusion. Keith didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

When Keith came into class, he was pleasantly surprised to find paper and pencils laid out on each table instead of notebooks and textbooks. The teacher had told them to draw a monster. As soon as she had, he put pencil to paper and stopped thinking, just started drawing.

What he saw now was still a monster, just not the most conventional monster. Instead of beading yellow eyes and strange coloured skin, he had drawn a human. To him, this human was a monster. He had drawn his father.

The man stood in a shadowed corner of a room holding a distinctivly shaped bottle in one hand and reached out with his other hand shaped into a fist. His expression was twisted into a sadistic smile, teeth bared and eyes dilated. Now that he looked at it, even he could see that it was impossible to have drawn that without reference. He was screwed.

“Keith? Who is this?” the teacher asked, looking at him with a horrified look on her face. Keith just looked down stubbornly, refusing to answer. “Keith?” she tried again only to be faced with the same look.

“Keith? Is this a family member? Is this, perhaps, your father?” He looked up sharply at the words. He didn’t expect someone to guess that quickly. He didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t want anyone to care. He didn’t want anyone to find out the secret he had tried so hard to keep. He didn’t want to lose the only family he had left. He wanted to be selfish.

His lips trembled as he stared into the eyes of the women, the stranger, staring at him with so much hurt, so much raw concern that it made tears well up in his eyes. “I-I-”

Apparently that was all the confirmation his teacher had needed and she stood up abruptly, whispering a soft apology when Keith flinched, and guided him out of the classroom to the head’s office. 

\---

Keith didn’t realise what that meant until he got home to find police cars and an ambulance surrounding his house and his father in the midst of it all, thrashing and shouting for all he was worth. As soon as he caught sight of Keith, everything stopped.

Keith had seen movies before. There was always that moment when time slowed down or just straight up stopped but he never believed that could happen until now. Until he saw his father and time did just stop until there was only him and his father staring at each other, one in disgust the other in shock.

“NO! Please! Don’t take him. You can’t take him away. H-he’s my fa- dad. He’s the only one I have left. Please. Please. Please, please, ple-” His voice broke as tears clouded his vision and he crumbled to the floor as one of the paramedics held him. He watched helplessly as they dragged his father into the open door of the police car, thrashing and screaming to no avail as the handcuffs restrained him.

\---

A life sentence in prison.

Keith couldn’t decide if he was happy or not and the twisted feeling in his gut was not helping at all. All that ran through his head was thrashing and screaming the day his father was arrested but his heart clenched painfully whenever he thought of the future. What was to become of him now?

\---

“This is Keith,” his foster worker introduced, subtly guiding him forward. What was her name? Anna? Ashley? He didn’t bother to ask and now there was no point. He probably wouldn’t see her again anyways.

“Hi, Keith! I’m Sophie,” the blonde woman greeted, holding her hand out to him.

“H-hi.” He ducked his head, bangs covering his face. Keith felt a soft tug on his pant leg and looked toward it to find a young girl staring up at him, eyes blown wide and grinning widely.

“Keef! I’m Amelia. Mummy said you’re my new brother. Are you gonna stay with us? How old are you? I’m three!”

A shy smile made its way to Keith’s lips as he stared at Amelia and finally took Sophie's hand. “Yes. I-I’ll stay with you.”

For the first time since his father was taken, two years ago, he felt hope. Maybe, just maybe things would be alright again. He wouldn’t have his father but he wouldn’t have to worry about hiding either. Maybe he could find a family in Sophie and Amelia. Could he?

\---

Stupid, stupid Keith. How could he think that? How could he have been so naïve? Didn’t he get it? His family was gone and there was no way he could get another. He should just give up. He had his chance and he blew it. Amelia and Sophie were never going to accept him.

Keith glanced back at the house that had been his home for the past six months. He caught sight of Sophie tearfully looking at the gravel of the as she held onto an equally as distressed Amelia, who looked like she would have ran up to Keith and latch on to his leg as she used to if Sophie wasn't holding on to her.

A bitter taste filled his mouth and he shuddered, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder in discomfort. He followed his foster worker, who he found out was called Amy, into the car. Something told him he'd be seeing her a lot more over the next few years.

\---

"P-please. I-I'm sorry. I promise. I-I'll stop, just please. Please." Keith sobbed as the foot was aimed at his stomach again. He frantically covered his stomach with his arms, hoping to lessen the impact.

His clothes lay in tatters on the carpeted floor, dirtied by blood and vomit. His stomach cramped painfully from hunger and Keith cringed as the tell tale burn of bile rose up his throat.

They lied to him. They said he would be safe. They said he wouldn't have to hurt ever again. This was worse than before. This time the man never held back.

Keith heard a cry of outrage before he was lifted off of the floor and his airways were cut off. He couldn't- couldn't breathe- couldn't hear- couldn't see. Black spots covered his vision and he let out one last sob and plea before the black took over.

In the distance he could hear police sirens and the splintering of wood but he didn't think he could be that lucky.

\---

“Hello, Keith.” Sana, his new foster mother, said, smiling warmly at him yet the twelve year old couldn’t bring himself to smile back. What was the point anyways? He would be back in the foster system in a few weeks at most.

Seven foster homes in five years. This was the eighth. Keith was sure he had broken a record at this point.

To this day, he regretted being so different. As he entered the door of yet another unfamiliar house, he wished that he had drawn a monster like the others had. Sure he wouldn't have the best life but at least he'd have his father and a place to call home. At least he could have kept pretending everything was fine.


End file.
